Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (63 page)

He moved in close, and she could smell his cologne. “That’s because you think every relationship means something special. It has for you. But our friendship is the only one that’s ever meant anything to me. I don’t know where we’ll land, but we don’t have a chance if you cut me off because of my past mistakes. It’s only between me and God at this point.”

“No it’s not. It will never just be between you and God, not for me. Can’t you see that?”

Odd as it was, Martin didn’t defend himself; he seemed to be waiting for her to judge him and make a ruling. A dozen emotions rolled through her before stopping on a single thought. If they could find peace and unity over this issue, they’d be able to overcome their sexual history—his through poor choices, hers by force. But both had to be reckoned with.

Suddenly his past seemed less of a threat and more like equal footing-like a trade-off of baggage to be dealt with. Beyond that comforting realization, Hannah wondered, if God had forgiven her for all she’d handled wrong in life, could she withhold forgiveness from Martin?

She slid her hand back into his. “I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “You were sucker-punched, and I’m really sorry.”

She drew a deep breath, ready to start the evening over. “I’ve never been on a date.”

A soft grin eased the tension on his face. “How does a girl get engaged without dating?”

She shrugged. “Let’s not talk about that.” She felt a hair clip in her coat pocket. “I don’t want to wear my hair down.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you would.”

She pulled out the clip and pinned up her hair. “Am I date umpteen hundred for the month?”

“No. We made a deal at Christmas, remember? Besides, I’ll tell you a secret.” He looked around the yard conspiratorially. “I haven’t been on a date in more than nine months.”

She felt calmer, knowing their time together had caused him to stop dating early last summer. Standing directly in front of him, she waited for him to look into her eyes, say something witty or sweet or even sarcastic, and make her forget everything but the moment.

But he didn’t say anything at all. He just stood there, smiling at her.

“I’m no longer a teenager.”

“Mmm, I know.”

“If you almost kissed a teen, maybe you could come closer this time.”

“Well, last couple of years my rule has been that I don’t kiss until the fourth date. That way I don’t freak out later when I realize I didn’t like the girl. If someone lasts through four dates, she’s worthy of a kiss.” He caressed her face. “But I could make an exception.”

He slowly brought his lips to hers, and every speck of loneliness that had remained with her for two years was swept away.

M
artin stared at the casket perched on the hydraulic lift designed to lower it into the ground. The green indoor-outdoor carpet under his feet covered the loose dirt that had been removed to make room for a woman he loved like a mother. The trees around them were in full end-of-May bloom.

People had gathered in droves. Most of them he went to church with. But none had brought any sense of comfort. It wasn’t for Zabeth that he grieved; it was for Hannah most of all, and for Faye and her children, and then for himself. Zebby had died in her sleep at the cabin with Hannah right beside her. But Zabeth was free now. He knew that. Even so, it’d be a long year of grieving, with years of lesser grief. That was just the way it worked.

In spite of how taxing the last few days had been, Hannah had responded with a quiet reserve, doing whatever needed to be done. She’d put up a stoic wall, and for now he was allowing her to cope in whatever manner she chose. She’d provided Dr. Lehman addresses for all of Zabeth’s family and asked him to send letters, informing them of her death. For reasons Martin would have thought she was past now, she’d asked Dr. Lehman to use his own name, address, and phone number as the contact person or to refer people to the funeral home. The burial had been delayed as long as possible to give Zabeth’s family time to reply to the letters they’d received by overnight delivery. But no one had responded.

His sister’s cries broke through the heavy silence, her uncontrolled grief a stark contrast to his own silence. For days she’d behaved as if nothing existed but her own pain, not even her children or Hannah. Faye had acted this way when their mom died, and it had been Zabeth who had comforted her then. Had that really been sixteen years ago?

Across from where he stood, Hannah sat quietly on a white folding chair. He wanted to go to her, but he kept his distance. His sister was beside her, sobbing without control. As if losing Zabeth wasn’t enough to sink Faye, Richard had walked out on her last week. He’d been coming home less and less until he finally told her he was seeing someone else. Kevin and Lissa didn’t yet know their father had left them. They had enough to deal with this week, losing the only grandmother they’d ever known and bearing the pain of their mother pulling even further away from them. Leeriness at what life held for Faye, Kevin, and Lissa made Zabeth’s passing even harder.

Delicate fingers shifted inside Martin’s hands. He glanced down.

Lissa looked up at him, her dark brown eyes swimming in tears. “I want my daddy.”

Martin knelt beside his five-year-old niece. While he tried to think of something to say, a small hand patted his shoulder. When he turned, he found six-year-old Kevin staring at him, desperate for comfort. Reflected in their eyes was an ache deeper than they could convey in words, and he didn’t know how to fix it. They needed promises for their future, and he had none.

Hannah unlocked the cabin door but couldn’t make herself go inside. The eerie silence would swallow her. It’d been this way since Zabeth died, and today, the day of her burial, it was even worse. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Stepping out of her shoes, she flicked on a light before sinking onto the sofa.

She wished Faye hadn’t gone to the gathering after the funeral. Her speech was slurred and her movements clumsy. Hannah could only conclude she’d been drinking. Faye had made a spectacle of herself as she wailed about Richard leaving her. When the commotion started, Martin’s eyes met Hannah’s from across the room, and he hurried the children out of the house. Too weary to deal with one more thing, she had slipped out to her car and come home. She looked about the cabin.

Home. Even today, it still held some of the appeal it had the first day she’d seen the place.

She flipped through the mail. Still, not even one of Zabeth’s family members had responded to the letters Dr. Lehman had sent. Laying the junk mail and bills to the side, Hannah rose from the couch and walked into Zabeth’s room. She ran her hand over the old dresser and the bed and along the wall until she came to the closet. She went into the small room and pulled an armful of Zabeth’s dresses to her face, breathing in the lingering aroma of her aunt—a wonderful scent of fresh air and the expensive soaps Martin gave her.

She wiped away a tear and whispered a prayer of thankfulness. She had found her aunt and had treasured twenty-six months with her. In spite of the hurt, she’d always be grateful for that. But she’d just buried the only person who’d ever known all there was to know about her and yet had loved her unconditionally.

A car horn tooted three times in quick succession. That was Faye’s signal when she was coming up the drive—although it seemed odd that she’d drive here since her one saving grace was that she didn’t drive while under the influence.

Too drained to deal with anyone, Hannah muttered, “Not tonight, Faye.”

Car lights flickered against the bedroom window as the vehicle slowly approached. Hannah closed the door to Zabeth’s bedroom and went to the front porch. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the vehicle that came to a stop didn’t look like Faye’s.

Martin climbed out. With his body between the open door and the car, he faced Hannah. “I just wanted to come by and check on you. You disappeared pretty quickly.”

Hugging her arms tightly around herself, she didn’t move closer to him as she wanted to do. “I’m sorry I left early.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Faye’s enough to run anyone off.”

Hannah ached to feel the warmth of his arms around her, but she kept her distance. Death and funerals were a part of life, and she refused to get all needy because of them. But it’d been a week of sidestepping Martin’s comfort, and her resolve was growing weaker.

He closed the car door and walked toward the porch, reaching into his shirt pocket. He pulled out an envelope. “I wrote down the names of everyone for my own use, but I thought you’d want to keep all the cards that were on the flowers.”

“Thanks.”

He sat down on the top step of the porch.

“Who’s watching over Faye?”

“She’s asleep. I didn’t think Nina should be responsible for her, so I asked her mom, Vicki, to keep an eye on her as well as Kevin and Lissa for a bit.”

Hannah sat down too, feeling the oddity of being here alone with him. No one spoke, reminding her of the day he came here and apologized to her—two years ago.

Across the field, mist rose from the creek banks, looking purplish under the night sky. Crickets sang loudly, and an occasional bullfrog croaked. Peace seemed to slip right into the place where anxiety had been only moments ago. But it wasn’t just the scenery. She could have that by herself. It was having Martin near.

He drew a deep breath. “It’s nice here. Quiet and peaceful, and it suited Zabeth, but … I think it’s a bit too lonely out here for you by yourself. Don’t you?”

“You’re going to bring this up now?”

“It’s on my mind.” He faced her. “Remember when you called me a beetle thing?”

She laughed. “I didn’t mean to.” She dared to finish her thought. “But had I known it was so befitting …”

His deep laughter filled the night air, and she wished he could stay and sleep on the couch as he’d done on occasions when Zabeth returned home after a hospitalization. Desperate for a reprieve from the loneliness, she rose from her spot on the porch and pointed to the step below where Martin sat. A gentle smile formed on his lips, and he shifted his legs. She sat down.

He wrapped his arms around her. “How are you, phone girl?”

She swallowed hard and shrugged, but the warmth of being in his arms made her grief more bearable.

Martin rubbed her shoulders. “So how about we find you a better place to live? You can sell the place in a few weeks and find somewhere not so isolated or quite so plain or—”

She stopped him. “It’s home, and I’m staying.”

“If you change your mind …”

“Yeah, thanks.”

She turned her head, looking Martin in the face. He placed his hand against her cheek and neck and rubbed his thumb back and forth.

Slowly he lowered his lips to hers. “Mmm. I could have used that a week ago.”

Enjoying his closeness, she nodded and kissed him again before turning back around.

Martin propped his chin on her shoulder, as if he needed the warmth of her touch as much as she needed his. “I always felt guilty about Zabeth.”

“Guilty? Why?”

“It was my mother’s influence in Zabeth’s life that ended up causing a division between her and her people. Mom swooned over Zabeth’s ability to learn music, lined her up in recitals and gigs. When her community learned what was going on, Mom offered her a place to live.”

She pondered his words before answering. “Your mother was not what led Zabeth away from the Amish life. That came from years of living under rules that demanded one thing while her heart wanted something else. Your mother just lit a path that Zabeth’s heart was already searching for.”

“I needed to know that.”

The tenderness of being held eased through her, giving her strength to face the night alone. For the thousandth time Hannah wondered how Faye had gotten so lost when she had two women of such high caliber trying to show her the way, but Zabeth never wanted the subject mentioned. “Zabeth loved your mother, especially for bringing music into her life. I don’t think she ever regretted the sacrifice it took to have that joy. And I know she never regretted raising you, loving you like her son.”

“Thank you.” His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat.

“Martin,” Hannah paused, wondering if maybe there was a better time to ask her questions.

“Just say it, sweetheart.”

He’d never used that term before, and it stirred her like when he played her favorite songs, making her feel they were meant to be. “You shared a sketchy version when we met, but what really happened to get Faye on this substance-abuse path?”

He brushed wisps of hair off her neck. “And we were having such a nice conversation.” He pulled back from her and pushed a button on his watch, making it glow. “I don’t think now’s the time. I’d better go, but if anything comes up, Hannah, anything at all, you call me.”

Frustrated that he’d cut her off so quickly and that he’d rather leave than talk to her, she rose, making it easier for him to stand.

He pulled the keys from his pocket and headed for his car.

Hannah followed him. “I don’t like that you’re suddenly treating me like a kid sister who’s too frail to live alone in her own home or too weak to get a straight answer. If something is too much for me, I’ll let
you
know. And you’re the one who uses the phrase
just say it.”

He stopped and studied her. “I’ve never treated you like a sister. That’s just disgusting, Hannah. I do my best never to push you in this relationship. That’s all.”

“And I admire that. I really do. But there’s a difference between respecting who we can be, given time, and refusing to talk about things with me.”

He ran his hand through his hair and walked to the split-rail fence near where Ol’ Gert was standing. Hannah followed him.

Ol’ Gert put her head across the fence, and he patted her. “I was twelve when Mom accused Dad of using her like a maid, never having time to raise us, never being a part of our lives. She wanted him to stop working and traveling so much. I think she just missed him, but I’d never seen my dad so angry, accusing her of using him. He said she wanted his money and the house, the cars, clothes, whatever. He said she wasn’t his maid because she’d suckered Zabeth into being one.” Martin shook his head. “That wasn’t true. My mom loved and treated Zabeth like a sister, not hired help. But the fight unleashed years of garbage. It went on for weeks before my dad finally packed his bags and moved out.”

Hannah rubbed his back. “I … I shouldn’t have asked this question, not today of all days.”

Martin faced her. “For being so close, there are still things we hold back, aren’t there?”

Dread of telling him that she’d once carried a child and was unable to ever carry another one washed over her. “Yes.”

“It’s time to move past those things, okay?” When she gave a slight nod, he continued. “The separation went on for months before things got totally out of control. Faye and Mom were arguing one day—I’m not sure about what—but it ended with Faye telling Mom she didn’t blame Dad for moving out and she didn’t know how he’d stood it for as long as he had. Then Faye stormed out, got in her car, and left. You know the rest. Mom followed her and never made it back.”